


Christmas Eve

by Ribbonshalos



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Christmas Fluff, F/M, King's Row (Overwatch), Short One Shot, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-18
Updated: 2018-12-18
Packaged: 2019-09-21 13:32:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,548
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17044658
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ribbonshalos/pseuds/Ribbonshalos
Summary: Mercy and Genji still find a way to celebrate Christmas Eve while out on a mission.





	Christmas Eve

**Author's Note:**

> I just wanted some tooth-rotting sweetness between these two. Overwatch agents don’t always get to take holidays, but I’m sure they make do.

A faint hint of the moon spills into the cathedral through dark, frosted windows, despite the dozens of candles burning gently upon the chandeliers overhead. The stone of the building holds a slight chill, but Mercy’s hand slips into Genji’s warm grasp. Pulling her up onto a construction platform reaching the tallest window, his green visor is bright as he steadies her at the higher elevation.

They both turn towards Ana’s hunched form. Her back straightens slightly from bending over her sniper rifle as she sits in the frame of the window. Yellow lights splashes on her crouched form from the Christmas lights decorating King’s Row. The older woman’s good eye twinkles.

“Ah, here I thought I was going to get the view all to myself,” she hums.

“We can take the watch now, Ana,” Genji speaks with humor. A smile softly graces Mercy’s lips at the light sound.

Her deep, piercing eye, like that of a hawk, sweeps between both of them. Mercy’s suit and wings are presented with innocence as she lifts her chin slightly. The shine in Genji’s face plate could hide anything, but mirth escapes at the edges.

There is no fooling Ana, but she is kind enough to get to her feet with a sigh. If it wasn’t the quiet want in Mercy’s and Genji’s stances that gave them away, their shared look certainly does. No comment comes from Ana of it.

“Keep an eye out. Threats can be empty but there’s no need for anyone to grieve a tragedy on Christmas morning,” she commands.

“Of course, Ana,” Mercy agrees. “We’ll be vigilant.”

The slight tug at her lips suggest she doesn’t entirely believe them, but she passes by without hesitation. Dropping down the construction platform with agility that betrays her age, Ana calls out to Reinhardt. He jogs in his armor as if its clattering is deaf. Underneath the lip of the stone edge Ana waits on, he offers his shoulder and hand. Mercy can’t help but linger on the sight of Ana stepping onto the crusader’s shoulder, while placing her hand in his immensely larger one. As if treating royalty, Reinhardt lowers her to the ground. Whispers are exchanged. Her imagination conjures up enough to fill the space before the elderly couple as thet walk to the back of the cathedral. Lucio and D.va sit on one of the wooden benches, laughing at something.

Returning to Genji’s gaze, he’s already striding forward. The soft light from the window is a blessing on this evening. She comes to his side as he lowers a few of their supplies. Two thermos brimming with hot chocolate and a folded blanket. 

A gentle stillness surrounds the couple. It’s quiet up here, or at least, they can’t hear the chatter of the others from below. It’s refreshing. Softly, Mercy’s hand falls to the small of Genji’s black as she finds an unfrosted bit of glass to look through. King’s Row is aglow tonight. Golden lights, white snow, and wreaths and bells mark every wall.

“Seeing as how we’re spending our Christmas Eve here,” Genji begins, “I assume it isn’t too far fetched to wish for nothing to happen?”

“I certainly hope so,” she says, concerned. Threats were made on the holiday in a very public space. If proven to be true, Overwatch would need to react swiftly. However, there is a small piece of hope that it will be unfulfilled.

Mercy folds her legs underneath her in the little dashes of Christmas light. Finished with their set up, Genji crosses his legs beside her.

“When we get back,” she begins quietly, “we’ll have our Christmas.”

“Yes.” Genji leans forward to spread the blanket across both of their laps. “It’s not as glamorous up here, but I am grateful that we’ll be with each other on Christmas day.”

“I am, too,” she speaks softly.

The warm fabric immediately eases some of the chills in her muscles. Scooting slightly, Mercy’s wing fits behind Genji’s shoulder blade as she presses into his side. The familiar sensation of his arm wrapping around her lower back lets a sigh escape her chest. Her hand falls on top of his thigh.

Holidays, although never losing their meaning, has lost some importance to Mercy during her years of relief work. Now that the dates on the calendar will be enjoy with Genji, the memories of how comfortable they can be flood her again. His armor is warm. The slight motion of his rising and falling chest against her cheek is gentle.

The only thing that can make this better is within reach.

She stirs, leaning forward to grab both of their thermos drinks. Still leaning against his side, Mercy passes his into his hands. The warm metal blesses her fingers as she pops off the lid. One sip fills her emotional frame with chocolate and happiness.

“At least I was able to make hot chocolate for everyone in time,” Mercy speaks as Genji clicks off his mask. Scars are shadowed in the golden light, but her heart only softens. The glimmering sepia color of his eyes become brighter as he takes a drink.

“Oh, I’m grateful for that, too,” he almost moans after swallowing.

Her hand hides her laughter as he returns for another taste.

“My father made the most wonderful hot chocolate. I wish you could taste it, Genji.” She looks down into her thermos. The brown, steaming liquid remains gentle in her vision. “It was our tradition on Christmas Eve.”

He turns his cheek, looking at her. At the corner of his mouth, where his metallic lower jaw meets the rest of his flesh, hot chocolate remains.

“I didn’t know that it was your family’s tradition,” he speaks while lifting up his thermos. “It’s good that you keep that alive. One of our traditions—well, if the only one, was to see one of the sky trees in the city. It had thousand of lights and different colors, and towered into the air. I believe it’s the biggest Christmas tree I’ve ever seen.”

Glancing out through the window, Mercy doesn’t find any Christmas trees, but she does find lights.

“It’s not quite the same, but we do have Christmas lights,” she turns to him, smiling.

“Close enough,” Genji says. Leaning against her, his cheek falls onto her hair. Musk and metal crash into her air, familiar and comforting. She breathes out before pressing a kiss to his neck.

A perfect Christmas Eve would involve a roaring fire and a spot on the couch with a lovely view of the Christmas tree, but she wouldn’t trade this away for the world. Genji is against her side. A warm drink sits in her belly. Warmth stays with her despite the winter season.

Reflection falls into her thoughts. For the need of her heart, Mercy recaps her thermos. Lowering it, she turns to find his soft eyes staring back.

She has learned to not take these cherished things for granted.

_“Ich liebe dich,”_  she murmurs. “I love you.”

His eyes soften in the yellow Christmas light. He does not forget, or dismiss her expression as he takes her cheek. The nights and days shared bleed warmth onto his cheekbones. He leans closer, unable to keep space between their chests.

“I love you, Angela,” he breathes.

Her heart burns, aflame with his utter devotion. She nearly closes her eyes, but flutters her eyelids instead while pulling away from his awaiting lips.

“Wait,” she says quickly, earning Genji’s lowered shoulders and furrowed brow. Twisting, she frees a small plant from a pouch wrapped over her waist and white armor. Green stems and small, white berries lift into the air between her fingers. It’s terrible timing, but she couldn’t resist. The little tradition has been burning a hole in her pocket since they left the watchpoint. 

A sheepish pink touches her cheeks as she faces him once more. This time, mistletoe hangs overhead in Mercy’s grasp.

“This is cheesy, but, if you want to—”

His lips press against hers, silencing what silliness was falling from her tongue. A soft noise of surprise escapes Mercy’s throat, but it only creates a deeper kiss from Genji. The scars and soft texture of his mouth remain as sweet as nectar. There is nothing in the world but the gentle light shining upon them, and the kiss consuming their souls. She remains against him for days and years, refusing to let go of a fresh breath of air.

Gradually, like a blossom closing up it’s petals, Genji’s lips pull away. A tenderness remains in the new impressions on his skin. Mercy inhales, discovering cocoa, musk and sandalwood.

“You taste like chocolate,” Mercy almost laughs. “You taste like heaven.”

“Hmm,” he eyes the steaming thermos. “I better drink some more than.”

She takes his chin, grinning as she commands, “Come here.”

Unable to refuse her voice, Genji returns to their private celebration. His kiss is still warm, and brings a craving to Mercy’s tongue that cannot be denied. His hands begins to wrap around her back, cradling her spine. She clings to his skin, his beautiful scars. Her fingertips dance along his eyelashes and black hair.

They only part when Big Ben strikes midnight, lost in the taste of their lips.


End file.
